Monthly Archives: December 2016

Hazy Recollections; of Apocrypha and Anachronism

This place is a prison
And these people aren’t your friends
Inhaling thrills through $20 bills
And the tumblers are drained
And then flooded again and again…

~*~

These aren’t friends

In a pub crawl wend

Buying cheap thrills

With ten dollar bills

.

I trade tales cavalier

Over rinds and beer

Frothy, foamy, nutty

And turnstile revelry

.

Where you’ll end up

Inside a plastic cup

Bubbling in duplicity

Rock bottom, hit me

.

And rouse in a frock

Tick, pendulum clock

Sprawled in ballroom

Pierrot dancing tunes

.

By the candelabrum

Candlelight autumns

Feigning my glamour

When it’s all clamour

.

Confetti is cascading

Réclames showering

Stale tasting perfume

Grey asbestos gloom

.

Her silky black dress

Most gorgeous mess

Perhaps; his tie loose

Scuffed Oxford shoes

.

Clinking champagne

Metaphysical games

Kill off the lively night

Decay ’til sunset light

.

Ending in a broom closet greed

Or under the bed with a canopy

Wake up with a migraine death

Curled up in a medicine cabinet

.

Oh, but these aren’t your best friends

No more than the rules you will bend

Wineglasses refilling up until it’s tipsy

Enjoy this bona fide apocryphal soirée.

~*~

What does it take to get a drink in this place?
What does it take, how long must I wait?

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It Takes One

It takes one to know one

A bloodthirst for a bloodlust

To catch a killer with a cold link

You shall do what you must

.

It takes one to find one

A lost cause for a losing side

To find what the devil couldn’t

Let him pick the pace he abides

.

It takes one to capture one

An insane for an ending sanity

Taste his actions, every death

As if he was your own propinquity

.

It takes one to be one

A stagehand for a tugged pulley

A mind is like a flawed machine

A single virus, and you’ll be me

.

It takes one to heal one

A catcher for a falling heart

You’ll try to distance yourself

Yet find we can never be apart

.

It takes one to know one

An apathetic soul for an empathic mind

But without a connection, your lead will be gone

For it takes two madmen to catch one, you’ll find.

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Filed under Fixed Poetry, Poetry

Touch Me Not

Don’t touch my porcelain skin

And leave a greasy thumbmark

Leaving a warm human stain

On what used to be cold glass

.

Poreless me, I sweat through

My eyelids, and the raindrops

Slide off like a drying old glue

On a forgotten Hallmark card

.

Like the one I send every year

In an yellowing old envelope

Greetings a lacklustre veneer

In automated wishes of hope

.

They never send back, never will

Throw my postal mail in a basket

It’s fine, just an obligation to fulfil

And I’ll preoccupy my own health

.

As I polish my iridescent arms

With a newly-washed tea towel

See the glow, reflecting charms

Of the fluorescent lighting shell

.

Look at me, I’m a marble goddess

Of alabaster and stiff appendages

But heed the museum signs, okay

And touch me not, I ask, and pray

.

Do not touch my porcelain skin

Not an inch closer of your finger

I don’t wish for cracks to appear

And I’ll thirst for human hungers

.

Do not touch my pure porcelain skin, please

Kill that curiosity early, it is all for the better

I’m perfectly placid now, I’m in a cooled cryogenic peace

And I fear your torrid emotions just might make me shatter.

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451

Fahrenheit 451—the temperature at which book paper catches fire and burns…” ~Ray Bradbury

~*~

4 days…

Dandelion tickles her soft chin

Montag, are you in love or not?

Childish star girl of evergreen

Dial watch face and whatnots

Life with you, in pretty whims

Until a beetle ran you over flat

.

Her liquid mercury eyes staring

Where did we first meet, Millie?

Her snowless island, yet hailing

Faux laughs of a parlour family

Life, with you, lacklustre feeling

Until a snake expunged toxicity

.

5 hours…

Mechanical hound, metal growl

What are fires, but clean lauds?

Captain, with a solid-set scowl

His knowledge, logically sound

Life with you, exhilarating goals

Until a dragon melts your ground

.

Brittle bones creaking with age

Books bleed pores, do you see?

The clever professor assuages

With green thimbles, philosophy

Life with you, easy plans staged

Until wolves chased relentlessly

.

1 lifetime.

A silver salamander button melting

Fill this sieve with sand for a dime?

A fireman with his joys misguiding

A forbidden hobby to pass the time

Life with himself, scary, confusing

Until books made him feel sublime

.

In a monochromatic dystopia, a future glowing bleak

Yes. Chicago. Beauty. Yes. Can’t. Answered his insights

Wars waged in twenty seconds, and families of static

Watching butterfly pages curling, words burning bright

Life as Book of Ecclesiastes, walking with his fellow literaries

I’ll save this passage for when we finally reach the city lights…

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A Covetous Call Of Clarity

Just like a tick, I’m itching the back of your throat
You miss the beat while I’m hanging on every note
You gotta choke cause you swallowed a problem
Not gonna take this, not gonna take this!

~*~

I despised your guiling swords of histrionic eloquence

Sharp tongue slashing cuts to the point of garishness

Every clanking word like an aged hard treacle in its tartiness

Your kisses causing me tooth decay and imminent stress

.

“Oh you silly bird, I’m not a threat” you oh-so silkily assured

And how careless it was of my ineptitude to believe that

All your prior motives were bleached white, strikingly pure

I bit on the card, despite the murky venom you clearly spat

.

How was I, a desperado, to have foretold this tragedy?

How was I to surmise that you’ve hidden a weightless dice?

When I look back on your lifelines, your inscribed litanies

All I envision is an ostentatious parade of chromatic lies

.

Where was my head in all of these? Distorted in the grey clouds

That you created with every breath as you sat smoking your pipe

A most rancid smell, yet intoxicating, of tobacco compound

But I was too indulged in the bittersweet nicotine to fight

.

“Oh, I’m an incarnadine goddess, a quite reliable vial of blood

Just let me be your saving grace, let me be your TNT spark”

And I let you flambeaux up the resting embers in my chest

And despite all my cautious prayers, I detonated nonetheless

.

Now where do I stand? Sullenly relaying your past discourse

The way an ashen-faced prisoner would steal a fallen lamplight

Just to read his personal announcements, bereft and morose

Clutching tightly a letter about his execution by hanging tonight

.

I’m defeated by your idiosyncrasies, your imagination is a tight rope around my neck

It pains me to even conjure the thought that to your fabrications I’ve been a gracious host

In the end, it all comes down to a single statement, a mouth with a flair for the dramatic

I’ll let your virtuoso hands pull the trapdoor lever, fingers trembling as I give up the ghost

.

A final violent shade of verdure is beginning to spread, clashing against my bruise-blotched cheeks

Blossoming briskly, an ironic requiem, though I’ve sorely wished for nothing but for them to already wilt

Somehow those sentimental chemicals in my asphyxiated brain keep acting as a mercurial fertiliser score

My last deathwish is that you’d be kind to pluck them from my heart, loved one, after all, what’s a single tear more?

~*~

I swear your head is bigger than us all, getting bigger
Go slit your own throat, slit your own throat!
You’re more turned on than anyone could be by yourself
Go slit your own throat, slit your own throat!

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